This Is How Phil Coulson Begins His Day
by NezumiPi
Summary: A quick look at how the director is adapting to his new disability and the role his team has played. This is actually part of Chapter 7 of House of Folded Paper, but I thought it worked well as a one-shot too.


This is how Phil Coulson begins his day.

He wakes up and looks at the tablet he keeps by his bedside, to see if any important events have transpired since he went to sleep. He checks his schedule. He's supposed to meet FitzSimmons in the lab at 8:00 for some nerve conductance tests. He knows they're working on some kind of prosthetic for him, which makes him uncomfortable, but as long as he doesn't have to look at the prototype, he's willing to play along for now. He rolls out of bed. He used to sleep in pajamas, but clothes are a challenge these days, especially when he has to get up in the middle of the night to relieve himself, so for now he just wears his boxers to bed. He takes those off and steps into the shower – a private washroom is one of the few privileges of command that he indulges in.

Showering with one hand isn't much different from showering with two, though there's one spot on his back that's damn near impossible to reach. He once spent about ten minutes trying to hold a shampoo bottle in his teeth while he dispensed some into his hand before realizing that it would be simpler to just pour the shampoo directly onto his head. That sort of annoying trial-and-error seemed to stretch on forever, until one day, May walked into his office, dropped a copy of _Rehabilitative and Adaptive Therapy Guide for Upper Extremity Amputees_ on his desk, turned around, and walked back out. He sits to wash his feet, just the way the guidebook recommends.

He towels off and brushes his teeth. This requires some minor adjustments. He had to throw out his nicely contoured toothbrush in favor of a plain, flat-handled model, one that wouldn't roll around while he applied toothpaste to it. He's a little messier than he used to be, but he can manage. There was a time when he liked to shave with a straight razor. Those days are over if he doesn't want to end up cutting his face to ribbons. The electric razor is faster anyway.

Then he dresses. This part is difficult, even if he is only missing one hand, even if he still has his dominant one. He puts on a fresh pair of boxers – he has given up on briefs. Undershirts are difficult as well, even when he follows the guidebook's instructions. He is patient with himself. While he tries, he asks his tablet to begin reading him the morning's briefing. Skye has modified his computers for one-handed operation, but that's still slow, so she set up a voice-recognition system to tide him over until he gets up to speed. Once he finally gets his undershirt on, he moves to his button-down. There was a time when he thought he'd have to give up Oxfords entirely, but he now has a tool to speed this along, a gift from Morse, whose late grandfather had lost motor function following a stroke. The tool allows him to manipulate small buttons with only one hand. He has become quite proficient with it.

Pants are still slow. A belt requires rolling around on the bed in a frankly undignified fashion. He has been loosening and re-using the same tie for almost two weeks. Socks are manageable. Shoes themselves aren't so bad, but regular laces are frankly impossible. It was Hunter, of all people, who gave him a pair of elastic laces with pressure ties, saying, "Idaho used to wear ones like this. He liked 'em because whenever he was hungover – which was always; guy had a problem – his hands would shake too much to tie his shoes the normal way. Not exactly your issue but same idea, right?"

His morning routine takes longer now, but it's still quick enough that he has time to look in on the garage, where Mack has finally earned the opportunity to work on Lola. He's modifying the controls so they can be operated with one hand.

It would be unfair to call Phil Coulson a lucky man because he has earned the friendship and devotion that he's been shown. Still, he catches a glance at himself in the mirror, looking just as put-together as he did before that day on the carrier, and he feels like his team is a gift.


End file.
